


names like pain cries

by humanveil



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 15:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Kylo touches him, and Hux falls apart.





	names like pain cries

**Author's Note:**

> experimenting with new writing styles, so this is a bit of a test. hope you like it!

They always end up like this: pressed together, merged as one. Hardly any space between them.

_Inevitable._

His shirt is open, wrinkled. Bunched up around his waist and spread out to either side of him, like wings. Hands trail over skin: _gloved_. The leather is cold and unwelcome, the slide of it across his cheek uncomfortable.

He wants skin. Wants heat. Wants the reminder of life.

“Please.”

He doesn’t like to beg -- _Huxes don’t beg_ \-- but, fuck it. If he has to, he has to.

It’s only for Kylo to see.

A smirk, smug and humorous; like he’s trying not to laugh. Hux wants to punch him. Or kiss him. It’s always been difficult to distinguish the two.

He’s rewarded, though. Kylo takes the gloves off. Slowly, like he’s putting on a show.

_Bastard._

A drag of a hand -- warm, eager, always softer than expected -- across his abdomen. Hux’s stomach jolts beneath it. Too much, too much, too much.

_Not enough._

Hux sighs. Soft and almost sweet, the sound disappearing behind a rustle of fabric. Clothes against clothes, against sheets, against skin. A quiet _ooft_ as a garment hits the ground.

 _Careless_ , Hux thinks. Always so careless.

Except, with him.

Funny, almost. How that works.

A scrape of a nail, just enough pressure to hurt. Not enough to draw blood.

 _Not funny_ , Hux amends. Something else. Something inexplicable.

Lips follow, and yes, _yes_. Hux arches to the touch; Kylo’s lips warm and wet, leaving behind a string of dampness.

Beautiful. Breathtaking.

Annoying.

“ _More_.”

Another grin. Feral, this time. Tinged with pride. He likes this, Hux knows he does. Likes knowing that he can do this to him. That _only_ he can do it.

Hands travel downward, lower. Slick fingers stretch him wide, probing in the best way possible. Hux squirms, shakes, presses back. He moans, low and unreserved, and Kylo is still smiling.

Bastard, he thinks again. Beautiful bastard.

Kylo presses into him -- finally, _finally_ \-- and it burns. Burns in the best way possible. He moans, again. Loud, both pained and pleased. It sounds like a name, sounds like a sob.

Ridiculous, he thinks. Idiotic. That he can be reduced to _this_ , this. This _mess_. A desperate, begging mess.

Kylo always had been rather inconvenient.

A body, bent over his. Glistening with sweat. Muscles rippling with movement. Hux can’t help himself; he leans up, forward. Touches and tastes.

Salty.

_Addictive._

Hands squeeze him, nails leaving behind indents. Bruises, too. Probably.

_Heavy-handed._

The bed shakes, the mattress squeaks. He’s so rough, Hux thinks. So wonderfully rough.

Lips press against his, swallowing down his incessant moans. A bite, sharp and quick. Kylo’s teeth break the skin of his bottom lip; the telltale taste of blood tainting his tongue.

Fuck, Hux thinks. _Fuck._

His own hands are curled around the curve of Kylo’s shoulders. His grip is tight -- _too tight_ \-- pink lines following the scrape of his nails.

He deserves it. For doing this to him.

An increase in speed; rapid, unrelenting. Hux can feel the pressure building -- too soon, _too soon_ \-- can feel the heat spreading. Rapid fire. Through every vein, every nerve in his body.

_Breathtaking._

He comes with a strangled shout, a loud cry. Kylo’s name; _always_ Kylo’s name.

Ridiculous, he thinks again. How he can do this to him.


End file.
